I Hate Everything About You
by La.Grammatica.Nazi
Summary: Maybe they aren't so different after all.   Set before the first episode, and an off story to follow the OC, and after the mid-season 2 finale. Daryl/OC
1. The CanaIndian

**A/N: Is it just me, or are there more things on TV about the south than there used to be? Southern Fried Stings, Hillbilly Handfishing, Swamp People, Lizzard Lick Towing…I don't know of any others that air up here in Canada, but I know I watch them sometimes purely for hearing their accents. :D**

**Whatever, amusement aside, this is supposed to be my first stab at a Walking Dead fanfic, since I've been typing this and retyping this for the last year.**

**Haha, so just to be fair, there'll be racial slurs, and if I come across as racist in any way shape or form, know it was not intentional since the story most likely will not have anything more to do than a slur here and a slur there, but to be fair...there'll be a lot of degradation of Native Americans/Canadians a like...**

**I am Native Canadian and I don't really care about races myself, so I don't notice these mistakes. Sorry Nelle07! :)**

**Also, I do not claim any ownership over the amazing series (and comics) that make up the Walking Dead, nor do I claim ownership over the awesome song title I took from the amazing CANADIAN band Three Days Grace. ~~**

**Enjoy! (I hope)**

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><p><strong>Chapter One: The Cana-In-dian<strong>

She was walking through the woods; she'd only been there for a month when the world went to hell. Figures that's what would've happened when she finally got to leave the country to visit her childhood friend for a year at her college. She didn't quite know what she'd expect in the States though; it certainly wasn't kindness or mature people that could get over the fact that she came from where igloos, snow and maple syrup were "home". At least she had her one friend, who knew what she was going through, having been raised where she grew up too and then transferred to Kansas at the time where her dad's company needed him; and then transferred again to Georgia. And that's where she found herself to be when it all started.

_I don't even know how to make a god damned igloo_. She thought, remembering how she got treated the first week she got there. If she couldn't answer a question, what could you expect, she was only Canadian. If she asked a bartender for a Canadian beer, she got laughed at. She was watched in every store she was in, because as far as they were concerned, _her_ kind would pocket the store if they turned their backs.

While living in Canada, she had a job dealing with tourists in high school, and often she'd have southerners ask 'What's with all the Mexicans?' and having to explain to people that they weren't the same. It never went well either and often ended in a racial debate that got out of hand with the names being called 'injun' or 'spic' because they didn't understand how different skin tones could be actual human being, until one day her boss fired her over it all. On top of that, it didn't make a difference for her at all; all the redneck Texans she dealt with seemed to think all brown people weren't to be trusted. First Nations was not Mexican; just because there was a similarity of tan skin and black hair did not mean they were the same.

Mexicans came from Mexico and Natives (or Indian if you want to be politically incorrect, since they're not from India either) came from Canada, case closed. She wasn't even close to Spanish, but what did they know? They were only American. Most of them didn't even know what the capital of Germany was, or where to find Africa on a map, or their whole national anthem for that matter; that's what the media exposed to her about Americans, that and they all seemed to be fat, At least Mari was there to defend her for the most part.

Anyhow, that world was long gone, and it started with a phone call.

..._...

"_Get your things together, food, clothes, first aid, anything you can carry! We're getting out of here!" The voice on the other end of the phone was panicked and didn't give her time to ask why. "Meet me at the coffee shop!"_

"_Wh- Marie? Marie!" She was utterly confused but decided to comply with her friend's only demand. She grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with clothes and canned foods and her one pouch filled with antiseptics and other first aid essentials. She hurried out of the apartment she shared with Marie and decided against the elevator. Good thing too, had she seen what was inside the elevator; she probably wouldn't have made it to Mari at all. Once on the ground floor and completely out of breath from flying down the stairs from the top floor, she was surprised to see that everything was relatively normal. People stared at her oddly as she wiped the small amount of sweat accumulated from carrying an extra twenty pounds of canned goods and other things she considered essential. After a few minutes of recuperating, she picked up her speed again and raced towards the coffee shop that was just a block away._

_Good thing she didn't have to worry about traffic, since she depended solely on walking and public transport. The streets were packed tightly with cars, and people on motorcycles were zigzagging through what little space between the cars to get ahead of the traffic. Whatever was going on, most people were taking it seriously, and the rest looked at everyone else like they were crazy. She heard people in the streets and the conflicting views they had._

"_I don't see the big deal, it's just another flu scare." People nonchalantly rolled their eyes at people like me who were running around with backpacks and looking frantic. Others were on their phones, talking to their people._

"_I don't __**care**__ what the TV says, just get the kids and we're out of here." It was like listening to a debate; the people that didn't care what was going on around them and the people who were alert and took the time to prepare for what needed to be done. She saw Marie standing at the corner, trying to get a glimpse of her friend over the crowd, which was next to impossible with her height. _

"_There you are! About time too, my friend in the news business said we had to meet him and his partner at his work place." She spoke in short frantic words; her normally happy-go-lucky features were stained with worry and frustration. It became clear why. "Jake isn't answering his phone."_

_That wasn't like him; Jake was the kind of guy that would throw himself off a bridge if it meant making Marie happy before missing a phone call from her. "Well, maybe he's already there…"_

"_Maybe, Josh did say he already called him. Let's go! We're wasting time! We were supposed to be there ten minutes ago!" Marie grabbed her friends arm and bolted down the street with her in tow. _Now_ she was beginning to see why the frantic were frantic; while running, she seen a homeless guy trying to pull his hand away from a fellow hobo, screaming at him and howling in pain at the same time. She wasn't sure what she saw, but she knew that __**that**__ was the reason the people running for their lives were doing just that, running for their fucking lives._

_Once inside the big building, Marie really took the lead by bolting up the staircase that led up the twenty or thirty floored building. On the eighth floor, the pair almost got trampled by a flooding of people racing down the steps. "Everyone's leaving the building, and we're the only two idiots trying to get further in. What are we even doing?"_

"_Getting a ride." Marie's smirk was supposed to be for show, but she didn't turn around to let her friend see it. Panting and out of breath, the two stopped and caved in. "Maybe we should just catch the elevator?"_

"_There's one free right there!" The girls rushed towards the open elevator and pushed the top floor button. "So this ride…are we going to go in a helicopter?"_

"_There's nothing wrong with helicopters…they're perfectly fine, don't worry." Marie reassured her friend and smiled. _

"_I'm not worried, I was just asking." The girl frowned and looked at the door of the elevator, dreading something besides riding in a helicopter, but she couldn't place what. Once the doors opened, they found the last staircase that led up and found themselves on the roof of the building. There was a helicopter alright, and it was already forty or so feet in the air. They saw Josh, the one that called Marie there, pounding on the window, yelling wordlessly at the both of us. I did kind of make out the words 'I'm sorry'. But I wasn't sure. Yelling at the helicopter that clearly wasn't going to come back, the first one said to her friend in a sarcastic way, "They're perfectly _fine_…when they're not taking off on us, eh?"_

"_Shut up, he said sorry. He thought we weren't going to make it," Marie held her phone in front of her friends face to prove it. "Why would he think that?"_

"_Well, what's going on? Why are we on top of a building we don't work for?" _

"_The news said there were flu outbreaks last week, yeah?" Marie looked at her friend, who nodded cautiously, "Well then you know that the morality rate was substantially high then, right?"_

"_Yeah, like the swine flu or stuff like that, right?" She tried to sound like she understood her medical student of a friend, "Can you tell me what's just going on, in plain English please?"_

"_Well, the people that died from this kind of flu…sort of came back when I was working on a cadaver in class today! He bit the teacher, and I didn't want to stick around…that's when Josh called and told me about the attacks." Marie cringed at the last part, like she didn't even understand what she was saying, or want to believe what she said was true. "I know, I _know_ it sounds just plain crazy, but it's true. I swear on my life it's true."_

"_Well I'll be God damned…really?" Marie nodded at her, "Well, all craziness set aside, where do we go now?" She half smirked at Marie, who half smiled back, knowing she wouldn't be shunned for sounding like a lunatic._

"_Well, Josh said they're headed to Savannah to a…what'd he call it…a- a safe zone. That's it…Well, we best be heading there then, hey?" Marie shrugged and looked over the town and sighed. "I don't know how, but I think we can do it."_

_They looked down at the growing chaos below, and looked at each other a little less certainly than they would've liked to._

_Heading back down the stairs, they found that some floor was set ablaze. Not wanting to ask questions to each other, they kept going down the stairs in a determined silence. At least until she had to ask. "So, these dead people that are walking around, what does that mean to us?"_

"_Well…" Marie started off slowly, as if contemplating what her friend could handle, "They're not who they used to be, they didn't just come back to life. It's like they came back to take it. This morning, there was nothing but news reports on every channel updating how many more attacks there were. Jesus, did you just sleep all day again?"_

"_Why do you think I got to the coffee shop so fast?" She smirked inwardly; lately, she'd been shut in the apartment watching old horror movies and just letting her mind steer clear away from her studies. Marie rolled her eyes. _

"_When this is all over, I'm making it my personal mission to drag your butt to school and actually finish it." Marie chuckled dryly. "My point was that the more attacks there's been, the more the flu's been spreading. They didn't say that, but that's the connection I made from all the news reports. They even had video footage of the Mayor ripping apart his secretary when he was making his public statement for making people calm down…it didn't work. She got back up on live TV, and made a run for the camera…"_

_They both grimaced at the thought and continued. The world was already going down the shitter, and it was obvious once they stepped outside. There were people yelling and screaming, still a few people rolling their eyes at the looters and other crazies that were running through the streets in a frantic frenzy. And then there were the bloodied up people, some in hospital uniforms or other EMT's sauntering after the skeptics and making them believers on the 'Not just another flu' side by biting into them. The screams of confusion turned into screams of pain and fear. The living's walking speed turned into running. _

_She kept running, because that's what Marie kept yelling, so she assumed she was right behind her. At least until she heard a frantic yell that sounded like her and replaced the yelling of 'Run' she'd been hearing for the last few minutes. Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned to see the homeless guy that was screaming at another hobo a little while earlier holding on to Marie's ankles, while Marie was screaming frantically for help. Without thinking she kicked the guy's head, which made him let Mari go, and then she continued, since the TV said this guy was dead, she didn't stop until he stopped moving. Crying, Marie threw her arms around her friend._

"_Thought I was a goner…" She sighed and grabbed her friend's wrist to start going again._

"_He didn't hurt you, did he?" she caught up to be in stride with Marie, who was trying to cover up a limp. She was also holding her side and looking straight ahead. "Did he?"_

"_It's just a bite. I'll be fine." Marie cringed as she looked ahead, "Don't pay attention to me; I don't want you getting dragged off too."_

..._...

She'd been leaning up against a tree, taking refuge from the sun she had not gotten used to at _all_ in the month she'd been in Georgia. One month for school, and the seemingly rest of her days were to be dedicated to killing off the undead with nothing to look forward to, since she didn't know where Savannah was besides the general direction.

She met a few people along the way, but anyone she got near seemed to be walker bait and always took the fall she felt she should've taken. She never had the humility to actually let herself fall though- it was one thing to feel bad enough to think it should've been you; it was a whole different story when it came to actually doing it though. In all, she'd learned to just not be around people. It was better for everyone, she figured. She heard a motorcycle on the road she wasn't too far away from. The last live person she'd encountered had been the week before, and he'd been mauled in his sleep at the camp they set up, and that was the only signal she'd gotten that a walker had stumbled upon them in their sleep. On the bright side, she got the remainder of his carton of smokes they'd looted from a convenience store the day before his last. He was a dick anyhow.

Curious, she lit a smoke and wandered towards the road. She wanted to be sure she wasn't hearing things. She heard a slew of slurs and curses as she got closer to the road and realized it was two different people that were talking. She knew they just had to be from Georgia, judging from their accents, they sounded like they came straight from the sticks that were riddled with hicks. _Rednecks_, she thought; she often found herself giggling at their accents about as much as they laughed at hers. Obviously, they thought hers sounded odd and foreign since she came from Canada. It was like she might as well have a tattoo on her forehead to state it.

Looking out at the road from what she thought was a safe distance; she saw that there were two men staring at the bike they must've been riding. One was holding the back of his head, cursing at the older one while the older one looked at the bike that was steaming from the engine.

"What the fuck was that for? I ain't the one that wrecked yewr hunk of junk." The one holding his head glared at the older one, they had to be brothers.

"Shut up, and stop being a baby. I needed ta hit somethin'." The older one had a gruff voice; he wore a leather vest and a white tee with the sleeves torn off and black pants. The younger one seemed to be allergic to sleeves too; he wore a sleeveless tan shirt and dark cargo-like pants tucked into muddy boots. There was a hunting rifle in the hand of the leather hick who looked like he must've used that to hit his assumed brother.

"Asshole." The younger one grumbled. The side of the bike had a decal on it that read 'SS'. Taken aback, since she never had the misfortune of actually _meeting_ a racially biased Georgian outside of a store, she stepped back and flinched at the sound a branch made when she stepped on it without looking. She didn't have plans made to meet some hillbilly now of all times, especially since the only thing that stood between hate crimes being committed before was written on a piece of meaningless paper with no muscle behind it.

The two obviously heard it; on top of being openly racist they must've been skilled hunters on top of that. One was wearing a chain of squirrels on his side, and they both had their weapon of choice up and ready before she even had a chance to blink. Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, she had the briefest eye contact with the one holding a crossbow before letting out a surprised squeak-like sound and hiding behind the tree that she dared to look out from behind to get a peek at the two. His eyes widened slightly at the last second after he shot the arrow. She heard the whizz of an arrow before the blunt sound of it piercing the tree she hid behind. "Shit…"

"_Niiice aim_." The older man gave a sarcastic slap on the back, as the younger one looked up at him with a squinty glare and a half-hearted punch to the older ones chest.

"That ain't no walker…" The younger one trailed off and looked at the tree she was hiding behind. "If it was that arrow'd be between its eyes, idiot."

She wasn't going to lie, she was pretty scared of the two men; one because they were other people, and normally she avoided people like they were walkers too, and two, because they looked to be pretty violent with anything that wasn't each other, if they treated each other that way. She heard footsteps get closer to her and stop. The crossbow guy had come to retrieve his arrow his trigger-happy finger had sent it flying towards her in the first place. She realized her smoke that was hanging from her mouth was still lit.

The man yanked out the arrow and swore at the "Som'bitch" as it was probably deeper than he expected. Then she heard his movements stop, and he sniffed the air with a soft, yet sharp intake of breath. What she didn't hear was his silent footsteps, despite the branches around the tree she was standing underneath.

"Well what do we got here?" The first thing she saw was the string of squirrels around his waist, then the lowered crossbow, and the solemn stare from his bright, yet deeply blue eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: Haha. I looooooove the Walking Dead, and I've been determined to write about it for the longest time, so just saying, this has been on my laptop for the longest time (so I've said before), so I figured it was about time I get up on my profile. :)**


	2. It Ain't Bob

**A/N: Ahh, Merle. You and your politically incorrect ways, you intrigue many of us Walking Dead fans. However I disagree with your ways, I cannot bring myself to write a story with you in it without your racial slurs. And for that, I shall WARN you now. Because there'll be lots of it to come, perhaps. Just so you know, I am brown like Scout, so it's okay when I make fun of my race... ;)**

**Not so much with other races, and for that, I'll be sorry now! And again when it must come up. :o**

**Also, if you're a fan of the Walking Dead, let me know if I should bother with this! It'd be much appreciated!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: It Ain't Bob<strong>

"We got ourselves a spic, that's what." The one in leather had managed to get near her without a sound too, and was standing behind the younger one as he answered his question. He nodded with a look that just resonated with the word 'slimy' as he gave a small upturn of the corner of his mouth.

"I'm no _Hispanic_, I'm Native." She growled, trying to show more courage than she actually had. She stood up straight and looked up at the two.

"What's the difference?" The younger one slightly raised his eyebrow and squinted a little, as if he was genuinely confused underneath his threatening exterior.

Despite herself, she let out an exasperated yet annoyed noise, "What's the diff- Jesus, what do they teach in this country? Let's see, I don't speak _Spanish_, I speak English just like you do…except I probably apply English rules more often…I'm not from Mexico, Brazil or Spain or anything like that!"

She half-gulped as if she could take her little spiel back by swallowing the words that slipped out of her mouth. The two of them shared a same look that divided between anger and confusion as they looked at each other. As a slight anxiety crept over her, habitually, she lit up another smoke. At once, the two looked at her with a look at the smoke in her hand and then back up to her. Feeling the need to both just run away as far and fast as she could away from the two, and to just give them a pack each to leave her alone, she decided to just ask them.

"Do you guys want one?" She took out two packs and held them out, the worst she figured they could do was say no and call her a spic some more. But really, it seemed to her that it was the older one that was completely conditioned to judge other races despite his own trashy ways. The younger one looked at the pack of smokes and back to his brother. The older one didn't even acknowledge her hand offering him cigarettes, despite his slur against her.

But the younger one gave a sideways kind of turn of his mouth and shrugged, with a slight nod as he took a pack from her hand. "Thanks."

She gave him both packs, and with a disgruntled murmur she said, "Here's one for that asshole; I'm thinking of quitting anyways if it attracts guys like you."

With that, she picked up her bag and axe turned on her heel and walked out onto the road in a huff. Sure they looked like they could kill with just their eyes, but old habits die hard and she wasn't about to be put down _now_ of all times without standing up for herself.

"What the hell was that?" The older brother spat at the younger one. "You're jus gonna let that _spic_ tell ya off like that?"

"You're jus gonna give up a free pack o' smokes?" The younger one grumbled, taking out a smoke and realizing he didn't have any means of lighting it. Out of frustration, he threw the other pack at his brother's face, "She's right though, here –ya asshole."

She was walking down the road, and could still hear the squabbling brothers, which annoyed her even more. She took off in the wrong direction, but she couldn't bring herself to go back the other way until they passed her. Then she heard footsteps not far behind her.

"Don't matter how much you say it, I'm still no 'spic'." She air quoted the last word with more than annoyance.

"I wasn't gonna call ya that. I was gonna ask if you had a light." She heard a low mumble from the younger brother that sounded like he was trying not to be mean. She stopped, turned with a cautious stare and held out the lighter. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." She grumbled, examining the man before her. Now that he didn't look like he was going to kill her, he looked like he could've been a modest person given the right conditions. He had a sturdy build and a stern face with a tension in his jaw-line. His eyes were deep, like they'd seen too much even before the walkers made life even more distressing. He stood there for a minute, fumbling with the lighter and grumbling incoherently at it. "So, uh…what's wrong with your bike?"

"Hell'd if I know." He grumbled, like he wasn't used of people being polite to him despite how he could treat them. She looked back at the bike, and at the older one who was smoking as he fiddled around with the steaming engine.

"Does your brother _want_ to blow himself up?" She raised a brow at the older man who pulled his hand back and let out a stream of curses nobody paid attention to. The man got the lighter to work, and inhaled in such a way, she almost giggled at him; it was like a dying man that was running out of oxygen and finally found a supply and didn't want to savour it. He shrugged as he exhaled slowly, and handed back her lighter. "Does he even know what he's doing?"

"Prolly not, but kicking it got it going back in Savannah." A smoke did wonders for the younger man's civility, not a lot, but at least he wasn't staring at her like a disgusting creature in a glass box. "Jus in time, too; them som'bitches were everywhere."

So Savannah was no longer her option anyways, and slightly in denial about no safe zone there, she just had to ask anyways. "What about the army base or whatever?"

"What part of _everywhere_, d'ya not understand?" He growled at her with a look that asked if she was stupid; instinctually, she half-flinched at his change in tone. The look disappeared when he saw that scared look in her eyes. He understood a little; that's where she was headed, because it promised supposed protection from the walkers. Now that she found out that it was gone, she was just as lost as the rest of them. Noticing something else, he noticed if she was headed to Savannah, she was headed the wrong way. "Yer not from 'round here, huh?"

"No siree Bob." It was her turn to look at him like he was dumb; her tougher front and resurfaced.

"It ain't _Bob._" He grumbled, a look in his eye told her he didn't like that name. She didn't know why, but she knew said the wrong thing and quickly looked away. "S' Daryl."

"Yeah? My name's Scout." She shrugged and out of Canadian habit, she held out her hand, which not surprisingly he ignored. "And yeah, I'm not from around here, hell, I'm not even American."

"Could've figured tha' for myself." As annoyed as she wanted to feel when he said that, the little tug on the corner of his mouth told her he almost didn't mean it. Almost.

"I'm from Canada, actually." She butted out her smoke and looked around at the dead traffic. If all the cars had been running, it'd be one noisy and road rage driven place to be, but it was dead silent. He just gave a nod and took a few steps back as he too butted out his smoke. They stood in an awkward silence for a minute.

"Hey Daryl! Git yer spic-lovin ass o'er here and help." The older man yelled needlessly at the top of his lungs, which made Scout cringe a little, since the silence normally didn't draw any walkers around. Rolling his eyes, he grumbled a small thanks, again and went to take a step towards his brother, but stopped and looked back at Scout with another look of questioning.

"Ya know anythin' 'bout bikes?" He figured it wouldn't hurt to ask, since his brother kicked his bike a few times until it fell over. Sure she knew, but she already gave them both a pack of smokes and humility they didn't deserve. But she couldn't help but nod, especially since the older one was yelling even louder than he was previously and could probably attract every walker within a five mile radius. He gave a small nod and gestured ever so slightly for her to follow him, since she knew something about bikes. Shifting the backpack she was wearing and getting a better grasp on her axe, she followed Daryl towards the older man.

"I din' say _bring_ her, did I?" The older man growled at Daryl, who just shrugged and picked up the bike while the older one glared at her black hair and tan skin, she just knew that's what he was glaring at.

"Do you want your bike fixed or not?" Scout rolled her eyes and knelt down to examine the bike's engine. If anything, his stare hardened as she prodded at some things and turned when she wanted to ask a question but saw his stare. Briskly, she stood up and shook her head and started to walk again. "I guess not."

"Hey!" She heard the brothers snarl in unison, watching her incredulously as she walked away.

"If I'm gonna be looked at like less of a human, I don't have any obligation to help you assholes." She spoke calmly thinking about what could happen if she made them angry, and it seemed she was. At worst, they could kill her, but they'd still have to walk…or not kill her and end up walking the way she was until she pissed them off enough that they'd end up killing her anyways. Her thinking was a little paranoid, but that's what previous experience told her could happen, since the learning process is a tricky one.

She expected to be killed by anyone at that point, since the last guy she hung around was a pretty sketchy guy; one night, she woke up with a knife to her throat and he claimed he didn't know how he got there and that he was just 'sleepwalking'. Like she'd believe that, but that also was the night he got mauled by two walkers instead of her, so she didn't have time to care. Nevertheless, she learned that trust these days was just asking for too much.

Daryl sped his walking speed up a touch and got in front of her blocking her way for a second before she pushed him aside. In spite of himself, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around to face him. Scout turned around and winced at the grasp on her wrist; he looked irritated, but loosened his grip when he saw her wince. "Hey, I was bein' nice back there and you said you'd help."

"Y'know, this is helping my theory about you being an asshole…" She griped, half heartedly trying to take her wrist out of his grasp, knowing she wouldn't win if she tried anyways. He threw her wrist away as though he touched acid when she pointed out that he was indeed the one that grabbed her.

"Well you help us, and we get outta yer hair." Daryl looked blankly at Scout; his look was neither insulting nor irritated anymore, so Scout relented.

"I'm not hearing any manners for your fellow human being." Scout started to smile with a hint of smugness behind it all. Daryl's jaw tightened as his cheeks flushed an ever-so-light tone of pink as he looked at the ground, the side, anywhere but her gaze.

"Please?" It was barely a whisper, and Scout put a hand to her ear to emphasize that she just couldn't hear his manners. "I said, could you _please_ fix the bike?"

"For that asshole? No way." Scout chuckled at the look on Daryl's face and continued to walk. He gave a small shake of the head, mostly out of disbelief that he used manners for the first time in a real long one as far as he was concerned, she just laughed at him for it and walked away. Which kind of ticked him off a little more at her.

"Hey!" Daryl called out. Had she continued walking, he probably would've thrown every curse word he knew at her, but she didn't. Her attention was raised and looked obvious in how she stopped; then realized he didn't even know what he was going to say to Scout's thought of humour. She turned around and stared at his gaze, gauging something that he wasn't sure of.

"I'm only fixing it because _you_ asked, and relatively politely." Scout just gave a sly smirk at Daryl, who pulled his head back a little, as if he didn't know how to respond. She stood over the older man, who'd already decided she wasn't going to help and pulled off a few parts which made Scout cringe a little at his fumbling. He was startled when she said, "You're doing it wrong."

Spinning around in his kneeling position, he stood sharply up and grazed Scout's nose with his. Her face showed no emotion of any sort when he stood up, gave her a glare and stepped aside. She looked at Daryl, who just shrugged.

"I din' say I'd get 'im to heel." He said as he shrugged, at which the older man snapped his head at his younger brother. Daryl just stared at the bike, ignoring his brother's glare. With a tension still prominent in his jaw, he gritted his teeth as he chose his words. "Merle, like she said; d'you want it fixed or not?"

"Shut up." Merle growled at the younger man who just kept his stare at the engine that was slowly stopping the steaming as Scout kept her stare and focusing on working on it. He might as well have growled when she sat on the bike and kick started it, with the engine roaring to life.

"There, now get out of my face." Scout grumbled, getting off the bike the moment it started and watched the two men look her in the eye with unreadable expressions. She poked Daryl on the shoulder before Merle got to do anything. "Wait a sec…"

"What?" Daryl half snapped, since his brother wasn't a patient man with anyone. Scout handed him a lighter that she dug out of her bag with a small smile. His expression changed, although she couldn't place how it did but still held her smile as he took the lighter with a small nod. "Thanks."

With that, the two men sped off down the road, leaving Scout behind. As much as she didn't like them, she couldn't totally admit that she didn't appreciate their short presence. After she couldn't hear the soft roar of the engine she'd fixed, she felt an odd sense.

Sighing, she realized that she should get a move on. Walking down the road and checking out the cars to see if there was one she could attempt to hotwire the little sting of loneliness hit her.

She was alone, again.

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><p><strong>AN: Sooo…Scout. I think I'ma end up loving this character. I don't know; I have too much fun writing in first person, so this point of view is odd for me.**

**Let me know what you think? :D**


	3. Squirrel Huntin'

**A/N: Soo, I'm just gonna say it; I love writing Merle and Daryl, it's quite fun trying to get into their heads. Although, it's pretty challenging since I'm no racist redneck. :)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Squirrel Huntin'<strong>

She'd been too warm to really carry on that day Daryl and Merle had sped off into the distance, so she went to seek refuge in the shade, again. She ended up bunking in a delivery truck for two days since she hadn't had a good night's sleep those past few weeks. It's not like she knew how long she was there when she woke up since there didn't seem to be a point in keeping track of time anymore. Surprised that she was still alive, Scout made an effort to leave the truck and found a decent car which it's interior wasn't blood covered or look like it'd been ransacked for parts.

So after successfully finding a car, she got right to hotwiring it and started to head back to a town of any sort since she'd forgotten to put back her food in her backpack when she'd taken out some tools to get the job done and she didn't have the luxury of turning around to go back and get it. There was little to no gas left from the quarter tank she started out with and she saw the skyline of the city of Atlanta.

"Back to square one…" Scout sighed, and then cursed as the car started to putt-out. "Oh fucking no, come off it you can go just a little farther…"

But it didn't. In fact, once again, she was stranded on the road with no one to look out for her. Slightly hitting her head on the wheel, she sat there for a few minutes scanning her options through her mind.

Either she'd be off on her merry way towards Atlanta or head back into the woods to try find a haven while she figured out what to do. Since running out of food, she figured she might as well go see what she could find in the woods. Looking down at her axe, she knew she needed a different weapon to go hunting of any sort; what she was going to actually hunt, she didn't know. On the bright side, she knew how to start a fire to cook whatever was available.

She got out of the car and looked at her surroundings. There was a pick-up truck not far ahead that Scout figured would be her best bet to find something useful for hunting. She was right; at least, there was a hunting rifle and a quiver full of arrows and a bow that looked sturdy enough to take down a bear.

"Thank God for hicks!" Smiling, she helped herself to the weapons and decided to familiarize herself with the bow when she heard the noise. With a gurgle, the door to the cabin of the truck that was loosely open was thrown widely open as a walker with a hatchet lodged deep in his neck fell out. Half paralyzed having not encountered the infected for the past week; she looked at the bow and readied it as best as she could. Having only seen a bow used by people in movies like Robin Hood, she fumbled with the first bow and it shot down airing out the tire underneath the cabin of the truck.

"Shit…" Scout scrambled to try again. Readying another arrow, she took a slow breath and a few steps back with her eye on the nearing target and let the arrow fly. With a squelchy noise, the arrow sunk itself into the decayed flesh behind its left eye. "Holy shit…"

Gathering herself, she retrieved the arrows and wiped off the one with the dark red, gooey walker blood on the rim of her shirt. Grimacing a little at it and regretting it as she smelled the decay from her shirt, she decided to just opt into the woods off the side of the road. With her alert up, she scanned the ground for things like berries or edible mushrooms, and then the tree line for anything moving that looked like it could be cooked.

.

After a few hours of collecting mushrooms and finding a few blue berries, she finally found something cute and furry that looked like it could be tasty if she didn't know what it was when it was alive; a squirrel. It was just sitting on a log with mushrooms growing on it. Holding her breath, she took careful aim at the small creature and watched it until it reached its next sitting spot between two trees.

At once, she heard the whoosh of her arrow flying almost soundlessly towards the small creature, which squeaked in surprise when it split in half and got pinned to both trees it was sitting beside. Utterly confused as to how that happened, she stepped forward towards her half-kill. "What the hell?"

There were two arrows, but she'd only shot the one. Curious, she stepped a little closer when she heard the shooter of the foreign arrow mumbling in confusion too. Stopping in her tracks, she let the other hunter come forward to claim their half of the kill. She heard another set of footsteps and walked towards her top part of the squirrel. She heard a voice that sounded familiar, one she'd heard not so long before. "Well I'll be damned…"

"Oh hey, what's new?" Scout looked coolly at the southerner that made up Daryl. He just held his same tight jaw line and acknowledged her with a small nod.

"Nothin', yew jus took half my meal is all." Daryl grunted taking out the bottom half of the squirrel from the tree Scout stood beside. With a little contemplation, Scout decided to ask since he looked the type to know how to do what she wanted to know.

"Well…I could always share my part too, if you show me how to cook it." Scout worded her offer carefully. Daryl simply stared at her, taking in her question to some thought. Shrugging, he answered her.

"A'right." Daryl nodded at her to follow him. Scout took the arrow out of the tree and caught the mangled top half of the squirrel and hurried along behind him.

Daryl stopped not too far away, in a small patch of clearing where his things seemed to have been; there was a small plank of wood that was stained with blood and a knife stuck in it. Kneeling beside it, he gestured for Scout to hand over her part of the squirrel. When she did, he just kind of chucked it on the board and started to skin the little thing so quickly, she didn't think she'd be able to actually take in how to prepare it.

"_Norm'ly_, s' not in half when I do this." He muttered, looking up at Scout with a little sign of amusement. "First time I've e'er had to compete with a _girl_ for a squirrel."

"Well, there's a first time for everything." She tilted her head with a smile that was not returned; not like she expected one. Shaking his head lightly, he returned his attention to the squirrel that was in two pieces. She knelt down near him and his board and almost jumped out of her skin when he jerked his stare up at her and looked back quickly at the squirrel, swearing. She saw blood running from the index finger he was using to hold the squirrel more open. He put his finger to his mouth and sat there for a second, with a look that said he was mad, but it wasn't directed at her, at least she hoped it wasn't. "You okay?"

"Do I _look_ like I'm dyin'? Course I'm okay." He snapped from behind his finger in his mouth. He took a look at his bleeding finger and looked around. Despite how he talked to her, she felt the need to help him, again, since there didn't seem to be any first aid around him. So she dug in her bag to take out a band-aid from her own supply. She handed it to him wordlessly along with an antiseptic wipe. Grumbling an almost humble "Thanks", Daryl looked back at the squirrel then back at her. "You said you wanted to cook it, ain't you know how to make a fire ta do that?"

"Well, yeah…I was just watching how you did…that." Scout was a little taken aback at his sudden irritated tone of voice.

"Oh…I thought you people know how to do this," At that, Scout's stare turned into a glare when his eyes looked back up at her with a sideways smile on his face. With an unimpressed frown, she let him finish his train of thought. "I mean, not many people can hit a sucker between the eyes like you did. So I jus' figured since ya'll are supposed to be good hunters."

"Isn't it the same with _your_ kind?" Scout turned her attention to building a fire; a thought crossed her mind, she seemed to be doomed to be around living people that she did not like, not like she had the luxury of hanging around people she did like. Daryl's look snapped back up, with a warning look in his eyes.

"Kind's that?" He growled. Sure, it was fine for him to throw slurs at others, but if he was talked back to, he got real defensive. How dare she speak her mind, right?

"The _redneck _kind. Similar to '_redskin_', don't you think?" Scout stared at the fire that was slowly starting to ignite, speaking with an intentional cheeriness. If all else failed, at least she could say she tried to be nice. "I mean, _ya'll_ know how to hunt, prepare game, survive in the wilderness, drink all day and get with your cousins, right?"

At this, Daryl was quiet and surprised her with a short laugh. A snort if anything, "Heh…guess yew're okay."

Smiling to herself, she turned to see that Daryl had put the meat on some sticks. He handed one to her and moved over to the fire she'd prepared. Sitting cross-legged, Daryl looked at her and let a smug smirk slide across his face as he pointed at her legs. "S'like yew jus keep getting' more _traditional_ on me."

"What this? Hell yeah it's tradition; I learned it from _kindergarten_ at story time from my _white_ teacher." She watched Daryl roll his eyes and sit down, cross-legged as well and held his squirrel-kebob over the fire as she followed suit. After a few minutes of watching the meat brown a little, she pointed at his posture while he started to gnaw at the meat on a stick. "See? Even _yew_ probably went to school enough to learn that."

"Shut up and stuff tha' squirrel in yewr mouth." Daryl grunted between bites. She gulped down a few ferocious bites, having not eaten for the past two nights; the last thing she ate was a can of beans. She also forced herself to not just spit out the rubbery meat and give Daryl the leverage of picking on her some more. The rest of the meal was silent, until Scout pulled out her second to last pack of smokes. She lit one by holding it near the fire and sat back to enjoy her smoke, since it was the only thing that didn't leave a raw taste in her mouth. "Though' yew were quittin'."

"Yeah well, I smoke when I'm stressed…it's the end of the world as we know it, so I'm a _little_ bit stressed." Scout held her hand up with a pinching notion, and continued to smoke when Daryl just gave a small smirk and shook his head. "Are you at all worried about this whole 'end of the world' shit?"

"Nope." Daryl reached into his pocket to take out a smoke too. After lighting it, his stare went back to Scout's.

"Nope?" she questioned, which he replied with a shake of the head while slowly letting out his inhaled smoke. "Why's that?"

"World was going to shit before this'll happened, no?" Daryl shrugged, and Scout nodded like she understood his point of view.

"Yeah, I bet that answer's just a part of your image." She liked the life she had before it all happened, so she couldn't say she agreed with him.

"Whaddya mean?" Daryl almost growled through his smoke, making him resemble a little dragon ready to blow fire if she said any more to bug him.

"Never mind…"Since her smoke was done, and her hard work of finding the one squirrel she ended up sharing with Daryl along with the berries and mushrooms, she stood up to straighten herself up before going to leave.

At her movement, Daryl was suddenly alert and grabbed his crossbow with its aim pointed at her. It really wasn't, but he shot and it scared her. Hearing a squelching noise and the heavy flop, she turned to see a walker not too far from where she was standing. At the fallen body, Daryl spoke up. " S'pose ta be alert, ya dumbass."

"Well, clearly someone here is more red than the other," Scout shrugged, not letting herself look more scared than she felt. "Mostly around the _neck_ area."

"Yew could jus' say _thanks_, I could've let that walker jus' eat yew." Daryl snapped as he stood up and walked around her to retrieve his arrow, wiping it off on his mucked up tan shirt.

"Yeah? Well, thanks for that." Scout picked up her things and turned to Daryl with a forced smile out of courtesy she always showed regardless of pretty much anything, "Well this has been both awkward and degrading; I hope we never have to meet again, Daryl."

"Yew an' me both." Daryl nodded as he picked up his own things and turned to go back in whichever direction he was coming from. She turned away from his direction initially, but ended up watching him walk away. Turning around with a sigh of loneliness for the second time in two days, she kicked herself for wanting company and finding it in the most unlikely person.

When she got back to the road she was on, she found herself dropping her bag and readying her bow. "Well fuck me sideways…"

There were walkers on the road, and a big group of them at that. She backed up and started to climb up a tree, knocking down a bird's nest in the process. The little birds chirped in fright and gained the attention of the hundred walker march.

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><p><strong>AN: Haha. I just love zombie suspense. It's really awkward to not write the word 'zombie' in a story about zombies, since they live in a world where they never heard the term, or seen that concept put to action in games or movies. But, it also adds to something I'm not quite sure of yet. So, what do you all think? I think Scout's got more to worry about than Daryl at the moment, but that's just me. What about you? :)**


	4. Stupidity

**Chapter Four: Stupidity**

So not only was she stuck in a tree, but she was stuck in a tree with about a hundred walkers knowing she was up there. She was just a free meal dangling above them; they clambered around the tree, shoving amongst each other and looking up at the stunned Scout with lifeless eyes and peeling, decomposed skin. She watched guiltily as some of the walkers noticed the nest she knocked down; the baby birds were squawking away in terror as they got picked up one by one, and eaten in less than two bites. Shaking herself back to reality, she reached behind her to find that her bow was not there. Looking down with dread, she saw that it was, miraculously, hung on a broken branch not that far down, but far enough down that she did not feel at all safe going to retrieve it. So she opted for her hunting rifle. As she aimed it, Scout realized that she didn't have the first idea of how to use it. Examining the long barrel and the switch near the butt of the gun, she saw the safety was still on. Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, she turned it off and looked through the scope.

Up close and personal, they were sure an ugly sight to look at, and dehumanizing them made it all the easier to blow a few bullets through their heads.

Less than half a mile away, Daryl's attention snapped up when he heard the not exactly faint sound of a rifle. Cussing a little, he took his attention away from the deer he'd just had a good aim on and looked back at the direction that girl went with a shot of anger on his face since the deer ran off in surprise. He heard them too, the walkers, meaning there had to be a lot of them if he heard them from that distance. Looking back at the deer, he figured it was gone could be easily tracked if he just marked where he'd seen it, he headed in the direction of the gunshots. The last thing he needed was to have undead competition with hunting, or the knowledge that there were many walkers so close by to the quarry campsite he was in with a large group of rag-tag survivors made up of families and strays alike.

.

For the second time that day, as he got closer to the source of the shots, he heard _her_. "Stupid girl."

Looking ahead, he saw just how many walkers were around a tree looking up. Following suit, he saw Scout crouched on a branch with her arm wrapped around the tree and holding the rifle to her face as she shot, swearing loudly at each "Mother fucker" as they dropped to the ground. Clearly, she wasn't good with a rifle; she pulled her face back and held her eye from the kickback of the shot. With a slight smirk at her clumsiness, he lifted up his crossbow and tried to aim it at as many walkers as he could get in one shot. Letting the arrow fly, he was a little surprised that two fell. There were still about fifty or so grumbling wordlessly and moaning in ever agony as they teased themselves with the belief that Scout would just fall into their mouths.

Then they began to primitively think, they started to nudge at the tree she was sitting in. Feeling the shake and freaking out, she got a better handle on her rifle and swore. "Fuck sakes…now?"

The clip had run empty and she had run out of bullets to reload it further. Sighing, she decided to take the chance to retrieve her bow. Slipping down the branches with the caution of one walking through a minefield, she got just enough of a grasp on her bow, when the tree jolted again. Pulling back instinctively, she dropped the bow and almost fell out of the tree in surprise when the bow was caught on an arrow before it even had time to fall. Looking around, she saw a being not far off from the tree she was in with a rifle held up and skillfully hitting two to three walkers with each shot, which certainly thinned out the undead crowd.

Getting the wordless message, she grabbed the bow and the arrow it was hung on and started to let them fly down at the remaining walkers below her. At the last minute and last walker, she adjusted herself on the branch she was sitting on and felt the tension of the branch loosen in an instant. Feeling gravity take its action, she didn't have time to brace herself since she was still aiming at the last walker and ended up shooting as she fell onto the branch below, which winded her as it too snapped from the velocity of her fall. The last branch was more merciful, even if she was still twenty feet up in the air; she grabbed onto it at the last second and saw that below her, the last walker took a dramatic fall backwards into the massacre below her. Dangling there with one arm and finding no branches to help her down, she decided to recollect her composure while hanging there; wiping the cold sweat from her brow line and closing her eyes to try relax herself.

"So much fer never seein' me again…_eh_?" Scout heard Daryl's snide voice which broke her attempt to regain herself. She looked down to see Daryl stepping over the bullet and arrow riddled walkers, kicking them every now and then. He looked up at her with a squinted stare for a few seconds, as if gauging her predicament. If she fell, she'd probably impale herself on one of the many protruding arrows. "Can ya get down from there?"

Scout swung her legs at the branch below her almost around the tree with no success since her legs were inches too short to get a hold on it; she'd probably fall backwards if she tried to jump to it. "Does it look like it?"

Daryl looked around himself, wondering what he could do; she'd helped him out and all he did to repay her was teach her how to make a squirrel-kebob. Laying his crossbow and rifle down, he positioned himself with his arms out. She just stared down at him with a raised eyebrow and a look that said she did not want to jump into his arms. "What? I could always jus' leave yew there."

She rolled her eyes and was about to let go when Daryl raised his hands in defeat and was starting to pick up his things to walk away. "Wait! I was gonna let go you jerk!"

Daryl took his time to put back his weapons and looked back up, with an amusement playing in his eyes as he watched Scout dangle helplessly. "Well…I don't feel like helpin' now."

"Goddamn it Daryl, I'm gonna fall!" Scout half-shrieked; she wasn't comfortable at a height like the one she was at with no way to get herself safely down. Daryl mockingly put a hand up to his ear and raised his head a little. Scoffing despite herself, she rolled her eyes and looked up at her hand that was losing grip. "_Please_! Can you please help!"

"Well sure, why din' yew jus' ask?" Daryl chuckled dryly as he resumed his mini-mission to help the 'stupid girl'. With his arms readied, he watched as she let her grip go and as she fell, he half contemplated on just withdrawing his arms, but ended up catching her. Not smoothly like you see in those stupid movies either, where the catcher just ends up with the girl with her legs in one arm and her torso in the other with her arms wrapped around his neck or anything like that. It was more like the clumsy, barely stopped the fall anyways and falling with her kind of catch. "Oof-"

"Ow! What was that?" Scout was pinning down Daryl's arms under her legs and her shoulders and head. His hand had braced the impact that would've knocked her out. His head had knocked against her collarbone and he groaned. She shifted a little, wondering if he knocked himself out why she was still on top of her. "Daryl?"

"Yew're _welcome_." He stayed there for a second more before sitting up briskly and making her roll off to the side so that she was on her hands and knees; they both shot up to their feet and looked at one another. Pointlessly dusting themselves off, she gave a short nod at Daryl with a smile.

She started the task of retrieving her arrows from the pile of bodies. Daryl followed suit and when they had which arrow was whose, they looked at each other one more time. "Thank you, Daryl. You saved my life…again."

Daryl's expression looked like it wanted to change, but it appeared he didn't know how or what to change it to, so it was stuck in the middle of both a smile and a glare. "Yep."

Shifting their gear and looking at each other, it was as if they didn't know how to say goodbye for the second time that day. With a small smile, Scout nodded and said a short, "Well, goodbye forever…again."

"Later." Daryl gave an odd combination of a smile mixed with disgust. He probably couldn't believe what he had just done for someone he'd been raised to stay away from. To despise, even.

.

Daryl went back to tracking his deer. Feeling somewhat more accomplished having evened the score he had with Scout, he easily picked up the trail of the deer. After twenty minutes of tracking in silence, he came to a stop and looked up at the sky, something felt off about his day and he couldn't place what it was. He heard the snap of a twig, which brought him back to the present and saw that it was just the deer he'd been tracking. Not a threat, but his chance. With a skillful shot, he watched with a crooked grin as the deer fell over. Reaching down to his side, he noticed something he really wanted to smack himself around for. His string of squirrels and pouch of tools for preparing his kill with were not present. Thinking back, he figured his day's work was still in the same place he must've dropped it, since he recalled having his pouch at the walker gravesite he and Scout had created.

Swearing, he looked at his kill and figured it wasn't going anywhere and that he'd just run as he backtracked his path that day until he found his tools and squirrels. He was even madder that he was right when he did find his tools and string of untouched squirrels; right where he had put them down to catch Scout. In a huff of either confusion or anger at his own stupidity, he snatched his things up and turned to rerun his trail that was already set in his mind.

When Daryl was on his way to get back to his kill, he heard the screams of the kids from the camp he'd been recruited to. He didn't necessarily like any of the people him and his brother were around, but it was better than going back into the city. It was just a bonus the women did the laundry and cooked. Rushing back, since he wanted to get his deer and see what the screaming was about, his expression dropped to one of anger when he saw the biggest piss-off of the day yet.

A damned walker was gnawing at the deer he had been tracking that whole damned time he was out. But he wouldn't tell them why he wasn't around it when he finally had that perfect shot before having to go help out that dumb girl. He knew he didn't have to, and it was dumb to think that nothing would happen to the deer, but somehow he knew he did right in helping Scout out, since she did fix Merle's '71 Triumph; a trophy bike had it had a better working engine that he would've trashed had she not come along.

After killing the walker the old guy he knew as Dale had decapitated, he went to go find his brother to tell him about his shit day of hunting, minus Scout, over a beer and squirrel stew.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeeeup. Feel free to leave your thoughts with me, I'm doing my best to keep the storyline accurate and have Scout's story play along into it. It should be fun. ;)**

**I hope you liked it =]**


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